A/n: Many thanks to my beta Sean
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me.
The night was warm, and as Harry walked down the sidewalk his mind raced with thoughts of the upcoming war and his inevitable role in it. The war had already begun, he supposed, and although there had been few casualties, every single loss had hurt him deeply. The death of Harry's Godfather weighed heavily on the dark-haired boy, and in his heart Harry hoped that Sirius was happier where he was than he'd been in life. The jagged hole that Sirius' loss left in Harry was slowly healing, but the healing process wrought profound change to the young man as his thoughts turned to vengeance. The small shred of innocence that had somehow survived his childhood at the hands of his relatives was gone, destroyed forever by the sight of the last member of his family falling through a one-way veil. His childhood over, Harry pondered on how he might fulfill the prophecy.
Without realizing it, his feet carried him to the park where Harry had spent so many hours in solitude. Pausing briefly to observe his surroundings, Harry was slightly surprised to see two teenagers fighting before a crowd of onlookers. Strangely, the onlookers watched the proceeding in silence, making no sound as one teen gained an advantage over the other. His curiosity piqued, Harry crept closer to watch the fight. Half crouching behind a bush, Harry was unsurprised to see that one of the teens was his cousin, Dudley. With a spectacular uppercut, Dudley knocked his opponent out, winning the fight. Truthfully, Harry was slightly disappointed that his cousin hadn't been defeated. Harry was astonished when two more teens left the crowd, walking to the center of the group and began to fight. Straining to get a better look, Harry jostled the bush he was hiding behind and in an instant all of the heads turned in his direction.
It took only seconds for two men to rush him. Harry recognized one of them as Piers Polkiss, one of his childhood tormentors and Dudley's partner-in-crime. The other had a familiar face, but Harry couldn't place him. He was knocked from his thoughts when Piers spat out "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"I'm Harry Potter, and in case you've forgotten, this is a public park." Harry replied evenly, trying not to provoke a fight he couldn't win. With his peripheral vision he was already looking for ways to escape.
"Potter, is it? I remember you. You're the runt that went to the zoo with me and D the time that snake escaped." said Piers. Surprisingly, there was no danger in his voice.
From a distance Dudley called out "Who is it, Piers?"
"Just your cousin" he yelled back
Apparently, being Dudley's cousin was not okay because his indignant mumblings could be clearly heard as his heavy steps came closer. Upon seeing Dudley Harry rose to his feet, not wanting to be caught at a disadvantage. Shooting a glare at his cousin, Harry was surprised to see a calculating look in his eyes rather than the blank stare he was accustomed to.
"So Potter, did you like the fight?" asked Dudley as he wiped at the trickle of blood running from his nose.
Truthfully, Harry had always enjoyed fighting – so much was at stake, and the adrenalin was intoxicating.
"Actually, I did. I love a good fight." replied Harry.
"You should join our fight club." Shot the boy Harry didn't know.
"Fight Club?"
"Yeah, this crazy Yank told us about it a couple weeks ago. We have about eight members now who love to fight, but we're always looking for fresh meat."
Honestly, Harry thought the idea sounded great; he loved a fight, whether it be a verbal brawl with Snape or an all out duel with Bellatrix Lestrange. In the back of his mind, the words of Sirius still echoed: "keep your nose clean... don't do anything rash" and Harry felt a small pang of guilt. In the end, the desire to fight overruled the words of a dead man.
"I'm in" said Harry.
"Whatever freak! Join if you want, but I've got first dibs on you." sneered Dudley.
The still-unnamed man ushered Harry toward to the group, introducing him only as Potter. Brief introductions were exchanged, and Harry learned that the others were Piers, Dudley, Malcolm, Gordon, Rob (the one who had invited Harry to join), Mike, Will, and Terry. The rules were explained, particularly that the group was to remain secret. It was also conveyed that any newbie had to fight on the first night, the only clothes allowed were shorts (no shoes, socks, or shirts), and a person had to stop fighting when their opponent tapped out or went limp. With the rules explained, Harry prepared to fight his cousin.
While he lacked the sheer bulk of his much larger cousin, Harry was no push-over. A childhood spent brawling against superior numbers (his feet hadn't always proved fast enough to carry him away from his cousin's pack of bullies), five years of Quidditch practices and the amounts of magic he used forced his body into shape; Harry knew that there were few who could rival his reflexes. Finding himself pushed into the center of the circle, Harry stared down Dudley.
Dudley blinked under the glare of those cold emerald eyes and a chill ran down his spine. Instinctively, Harry began feinting left, knowing that if he stayed still he would be pummeled by Dudley's slow but powerful right hand. Lunging back to his right, Harry planted his foot and swung his right fist with all of his weight behind it at Dudley's side, scoring a hit against the base of the larger boys' ribcage. Harry knew he should have felt the pain in his hand, but the adrenalin was pumping and he was flying. As Harry punched, Dudley rolled and retaliated with a straight left to his cousin's nose. With stars in his vision, Harry staggered back a couple of steps, then recovered, driving his shoulder into Dudley's gut and tackling him to the ground. Not wanting to grapple for long against his much larger cousin, Harry sought to maximize his brief advantage. In the ensuing wrestling match, Harry used his superior speed to raise himself up, his knees temporarily pinning Dudley's shoulders to the ground. Harry heard nothing but the sound of blood rushing through his body, felt only his heart hammering against his ribs as his vision narrowed to include only his hated cousin's face. Blinded by adrenalin, Harry began to punch Dudley as fast as he could, two fists pistoning against his face with meaty slaps. Harry's frenzy of punches continued even as Dudley went limp, until he was knocked from his perch by a boot into midsection.
Rob had watched the fight with interest; the new kid obviously knew nothing about fighting and he left his right side open, but he more than compensated for his lack of training with the fight inside him. He watched as Potter continued to beat his helpless cousin and Rob paid very careful attention, knowing that Dudley would lose consciousness and go limp soon. If this Potter didn't stop – and he showed no signs of letting up – he'd need to intervene. As if on cue, Dudley went limp and managed to receive three more punches before Rob could kick Harry in the stomach. As Potter lay sprawled on the ground Rob stood over him.
"The fight was over when Dudley went limp. You don't continue after your opponent is beaten, don't let it happen again." Said Rob, speaking calmly.
Harry stood as Rob walked away; doing his best to ignore the blood covering him and the pain he was in. Harry walked over and looked at Dudley, his face was a mess. It looked as though he might even have suffered some broken bones that would need to be attended. Despite everything, Harry had a smug sense of satisfaction that he had won a fight with no help from anybody. Fighting was in Harry's blood. He'd spent his entire life fighting, whether it be for food at the Dursley's or superiority against Voldermort. Harry Potter was a fighter, and even now life was preparing him to be the Slayer of Lord Voldermort.
"Good fight." Said Mike
"You might want to bandage and ice your hands, they're going to hurt in the morning" said Rob, throwing a roll of bandages towards Harry.
Looking at his hands, Harry saw that his knuckles had broken busted open and were covered in a mixture of his and Dudley's blood. Slightly disgusted, Harry went to the water fountain and did a credible job washing most of the blood from his hands. Returning to the group, Harry watched in interest as Malcolm attempted to revive Dudley, who was babbling incoherently. Waving something Harry couldn't make out under Dudley's nose caused the large boy to instantly come to his senses.
"Come on D, get up. We have to get you to Gordon's and fix you up." said Malcolm
The only response he got was a slight grunt. Harry watched as Dudley was helped away, leaving him and Rob standing in the park together.
"You need to work on your style, you're leaving your right side wide open. It will come with more fighting. If you try to practice someone else's style you'll lose your instinct." said Rob almost mildly.
"I'll figure it out. Thanks for the advice though." said Harry with a small edge to his voice. Harry still remembered these were the kids who had tormented him as a child. Sensing Harry's ire, Rob replied
"Well, I am out of here. Make sure you ice and bandage your hands, and you might want to fix that nose or it will heal funny-looking."
Harry reached up to touch his nose and recoiled in pain; it was probably broken, he thought. Thinking of no immediate way to fix his nose, Harry decided to deal with the most pressing matter and tilted his head back, swallowing his own blood until it stopped flowing.
"Same time next week" yelled Rob from a distance.
Harry walked away, feeling good he had beaten Dudley in fight and looking forward to more meetings of the "Fight Club". His broken nose began throbbing, and dismissing other thoughts Harry concentrated on getting home. Walking into the house, Harry tried to be as quiet as possible; the hour was quite late and waking up his relatives would not be in his best interest. Sneaking into the kitchen, Harry grabbed two ice packs and some water, then made his way to the upstairs bathroom without incident. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Harry immediately noticed that his nose was bent at strange angle in the middle, and was turning purple and swelling. Not wanting his nose to heal in that position, Harry grasped it gently between his fingers and prepared to pull it back where it should be. With a final mustering of will, Harry pushed against his nose and it seated itself with a wet cracking noise. Harry's eyes watered from the pain and it was several minutes before Harry felt steady again. When Harry stopped feeling nauseous, he moved into his room and wrapped the ice packs around his knuckles with the bandages Rob had given him before laying on his small bed. Harry wondered how Dudley's face was, and that happy thought was his last before he dropped off into a peaceful sleep.
Harry woke with the sun. Rising out of bed, Harry removed his bandages and was surprised to see that his knuckles had not swollen overnight. Rob's advice had worked, although they were still ugly and bruised, but Harry felt that a minor price to pay. Walking to the bathroom, Harry grabbed more bandages and reapplied them to his hands.
With fresh bandages, Harry made it downstairs into the kitchen, noting that his aunt and uncle were obviously not awake yet. Seizing the opportunity, Harry made himself a nice breakfast of a cheese omelet and bacon and was savored the food while thinking about the things he need to do that day.
Deciding, Harry cleaned and put away his dishes, leaving no trace he'd even been in the kitchen. Checking to see if Dudley was home, Harry found that he wasn't. Sneaking into Dudley's room, Harry stole his jump-rope and 10 pound weights. Harry had decided to train himself and his body to fight, and since he couldn't use magic he was going to do it the muggle way. Harry knew that a jump-rope and weights were effective from listening to Dudley telling his father about training for his boxing over countless dinners.
Leaving the house, Harry looked for a place to work out, finally finding a deserted alley where he would not be disturbed and went to work, skipping rope until he felt his heart would explode and doing punches and jumps with the weights in his hands. When Harry finally finished, he started home feeling completely exhausted.
As Harry turned the corner to his house, he saw a man dressed in robes leaning against Number four's picket fence. Recognizing him as the man that had attacked McGonagall the year before, Harry decided to avoid him. Reacting instantly, Harry dove over the bush and took back roads all the way to his backyard. Harry was going over a million scenarios in his head. Had Fudge finally snapped and come to get him? Had Voldermort convinced someone to kidnap him? Unfortunately, each scenario seemed less likely then the last. Harry decided this man needed to be disarmed for him to talk, so with a plan in his mind Harry began sneaking up on the man.
Harry finally got within touching distance of the man and prepared to strike. As quickly as he could, he looped the jump rope around the hand the man was holding his wand in and pulled. The man reacted extraordinarily fast, spinning with the pull and reaching out with his wandless hand to strike at Harry. With a mighty heave, Harry was thrown into Petunia's bushes like a rag doll. Harry tried to get up, but he couldn't as the man was using some sort of magic to hold him down.
"Identify yourself!" Said Dawlish in a tone that sent shivers down Harry's spine.
Still, Harry's strength held and he remained silent.
"So be it!" he replied and with that statement Harry was levitated out of the bushes in a standing position, almost a foot off the ground and face to face with his attacker. Harry glared; he was not going to give the man the satisfaction of seeing his fear.
Recognition dawned in the man's eyes and Harry was released from whatever magic was holding him and he fell to the ground.
"Sorry about that, I thought you were a Death Eater." Said the man with a calm voice that did not betray he had just been attacked by Harry.
"Who are you and what are you doing here" Said Harry with as much force and dignity as he could muster while trying to stand up.
"Names Anthony Dawlish, Auror first class."
Dawlish was impressed as he felt a small tingle push against his raw magic shield – this kid had power.
"What are you doing here?"
Dawlish observed the boy; from the look in Harry's eyes he knew he wasn't trusted so he extended his raw magic to make a bubble that no one could hear through. "Dumbledore asked me to bring you this." Said Dawlish, pulling a heavy leather book from his pocket.
Harry accepted the book, which turned out to be The Auror's Handbook. Harry looked at Dawlish with questioning eyes.
"Dumbledore asked me to get you one of these so you could prepare for your role in the war. Since I owed him a favor, I obliged and brought you one. All you have to do is stick your wand down the binding and it will open for you. After that, the book will open only to somebody with your wand specs." Said Dawlish
"Thank you" said Harry
"Be careful with that book. I jeopardized my position as an Auror to bring you that."
With that Dawlish dropped his magic bubble and turned to leave.
"Wait!" cried Harry
As Dawlish turned around Harry asked "Can you tell me how the war is going?"
The Auror seemed to consider Harry for a second before coming to a decision.
"As you've probably read, Amos Diggory was elected minister after Fudge was sacked. He's so blinded by fury at Voldermort for killing his son that he's been completely ruthless towards any possible Death Eaters. He's a Great War time leader. That is all I can tell you. Goodbye."
With that he turned and walked down the sidewalk, before disappearing with a slight crack.
Retuning to his bedroom as quickly as possible, Harry retrieved his wand from his bedside table and stuck it down the hole in the binding. With a click the book was unlocked. Harry opened the book and began to read.
The first thing an Auror must do is find where his/her magic resides. The location where your magic resides is the cause of all of your magical strengths and weaknesses. To find your magic, first concentrate on memories of casting – relive them over and over again, visualizing the spells until you begin to feel where the pull emanates from. Follow the pull until you find the where the core of your magic resides…
Reading this, Harry laid on his bed and began to recall his memories. Amazingly, they came to him in crystal clarity. He relived the sensations and feelings he was going through at the time, and slowly he began to feel the pull. Memory after memory served to help him narrow his search, finally the memory of the improperly cast Cruciatus led him to the place his pull was coming from. His magic stemmed from his abdomen, spreading throughout the rest of his muscular system. Coming from his trance, Harry rushed over to check the guidebook. His magic growing from his muscles explained why he could master spells so quickly, and also why he was such a good Quidditch player. Harry thought that many of his Gryffindor friends probably grew their magic in their muscles, while the Ravenclaws got their magic from their brains. He pondered on where the magic in Slytherins and Hufflepuffs resided before suddenly realizing that it was dark outside. Checking his clock, Harry was startled to see that it was two AM; he'd been reliving his memories for almost fifteen hours. Realizing how hungry he was, he snuck downstairs and ate. Lying on his bed Harry vowed to study more from the book tomorrow.
Harry once again woke with the sun and returned to the alley to do his workout. When Harry got home, he made himself some breakfast and went to his room to study.
Using his wand Harry opened the Auror book and read the next section, trying to figure out what to do next. From what he read Harry gathered that he had to practice finding his magic until he could do it on command.
For two days Harry practiced until he could find his magic on command. Harry found that his magic took the form of a green light that was the same color as his eyes. Finally, Harry went on to the next part of the book that would show him how to strengthen his magic and use his magic inside his body.
First find your magic (which should be instantaneous by now). Next, grab it in your mind and expand it all around where it starts. For example, if your magic is in your brain expand it all around your brain. Continue this exercise until you can expand it all around your originating point.
This was not as easy as finding his magic had been, and the day was spent with Harry struggling to learn how to expand his magic. Harry wished he had somebody to ask questions of, although his unlearned approach had some benefits: of all the magic moving around inside of him had forced his stomach into the beginnings of showing some muscle. Apparently Wizards had no use for exercise because magic forced your body into shape.
After finally having some success expanding his magic, the next technique Harry attempted was to send a small string of magic where he needed it and expanding it for other purposes. For example, sending a string to his arm and expanding it made that arm stronger. Harry tried sending magic to his eyes to make them fill with power, and wondered if this was how Dumbledore made his eyes twinkle. Harry was working on covering his entire body with magic and making himself invisible; he found that he could cover his torso but he could not make it invisible.
It was later that week that Harry found himself standing in the same park where he had beaten Dudley, at his second fight club meeting. Amazingly, Dudley was still there, albeit with a heavily bandaged face. Apparently Vernon and Petunia believed that their perfect son had fallen down some stairs, because Dudley would never admit a loss. Rob called the meeting to order and declared that Harry and Gordon were to fight first.
They two fighters stared each other down Harry called a little magic into his eyes and expanded it. Immediately Gordon flinched he could have sworn Potter's eyes had gone completely green. He had no time to think on it, however, because Rob cried "Begin!"
Harry held back his mirth as Gordon flinched. When Rob cried "Begin!" he let the magic out from his eyes because he was not proficient enough to hold it in one place for very long. Harry charged Gordon, swinging with his left fist at Gordon's stomach, though it was blocked. Reacting inhumanly fast, Harry spun and stopped Gordon's right fist from hitting his kidney. Pushing a small amount of magic into his leg, Harry kicked and when Gordon made to block the kick there was a sickening crack and Gordon screamed. Letting go of his magic Harry pushed it back into his right fist, landing a magically powered punch to Gordon's face. Gordon hit the ground like a sack of rocks.
Feeling satisfied, at his progress using magic to fight, Harry walked home, leaving the fight club early. He didn't care if Gordon woke up or how the other fights went, he just wanted to get return home and prepare for Voldermort.
The weeks went by and Harry spent his time avoiding the Dursleys, training his magic, and fighting. Harry had found some trouble trying to learn the more advanced material from the auror book, but was making some progress pushing his magic into his muscles and expanding it. Harry remained unbeaten in the fight club, and even beat Dudley a couple more times. Harry recognized that he was changing; he was now constantly covered in bruises and he carried the air of a violent person about him like a coat. Also, the magic he was forcing around in his body was giving him some muscle mass for the first time in his life. The Dursleys seemed hell bent on ignoring him, because when he walked into a room they simply left, never saying a word. This arrangement suited Harry fine, because they never stopped him from eating as much as he wanted. The strength of Harry's magic was growing each time he worked with it, however, it was still not to his standards and once he finally reached Headquarters Harry planned to check the library for other ways to increase his powers, as well as asking Dumbledore some of the questions he had about the material in the auror manual.
By the end of the summer, Harry had learned to hold his magic in place for almost ten minutes. He could finally cover his entire body with his magic, but he still could not go invisible. Each time he had tried in front of the mirror, the most that happened was for him to begin blending with the wallpaper before passing out from exhaustion. As Harry's summer drew to a close, Harry found himself standing in the fight club circle for the last time. Harry stepped into the makeshift ring and for the first time Rob stepped in with him. Harry began his pre-fight exercise and called up his magic. Pushing a little into his eyes Harry used his magical glare to intimidate Rob.
In spite of himself Rob was intimidated by Potter. The power that the other guys said they felt when they fought Potter was present, and Rob could feel it pressing down on him. Finally, Potter finished his preparations and looked up. What Rob saw shocked him – both of Potter's eyes were green – there was no white or black, only the cold emerald.
Harry grinned when Rob flinched under his glare, and when he heard the cry of "Begin!" Harry released his magic into both his arms and legs. He wanted to completely dominate the one person he had not beaten yet.
As Rob went to kick Harry ducked under the kick, grabbing the underside of Rob's leg and pushing up with all his might. Rob was immediately thrown off balance and stumbled back. Pressing his advantage, Harry swung a fist into Rob's stomach and grinned as he felt it connect. Following through with his other fist, Harry landed a solid punch under Rob's jaw and as expected, Rob went limp and hit the ground in front of Harry.
Seeing Rob fall, Harry let go of his magic and turned to walk away, as had become his custom; he never once stayed to watch a fight.
Ron Weasley was bored he was sitting on the stairs of Number four Privet waiting on Harry's return so he could walk him over to Mrs. Figg's to floo to headquarters. This summer Ron stayed at headquarters and cleaned. Finally the house was clean according to his mum's standards. Being at headquarters, Ron had seen a lot. One night specifically he recalled, as it was the night he had lost the last shred of his childhood innocence.
Ron was sweeping the front hall when there was a mighty tearing noise followed by a scream. With a thump someone landed on the floor and screaming ripped through the house.
When Ron looked at the person who landed on the floor the blood drained from his face. Laying there was a man with skin hanging loosely from his body, bleeding out of his sides. His face was a mass of bruises and his arms and legs were broken at odd angles. Ron was thrown to the ground as someone ran past and franticly started to attend to the man. Through the cries of incantations and the spell flashes Ron could hear the man screaming bloody murder.
"Ron come here I need you!" Screamed Mrs. Weasley seeing his catatonic state, she screamed "NOW!"
Ron ran to his mother's side and listened as his she directed him to put his hands over the wounds on the man's side and apply pressure till she could get to it. Ron sat there for what seemed like hours, holding in this man's blood as he screamed bloody murder, wishing it would all stop. Finally, Molly asked him quietly to move aside as more order member came in to help.
That night, all Ron could do was wash his hands and have nightmares of screaming. That night, Ronald Weasley lost the last of his childhood innocence and became a man.
As Harry walked home he saw Ron sitting on the step. He assumed this was Dumbledore's promise to bring him to Headquarters finally being fulfilled.
"Hey mate, you alright?"
Harry's words seemed to shock Ron from his stupor.
"I'm fine" replied Ron
"Let me grab my kit, hen we'll go. Wait here."
Harry ran to his room, throwing everything in his trunk before carefully placing his prized Auror book on top and shutting it. Calling his magic into his arm, Harry easily carried the trunk downstairs and met Ron.
The pair walked to Mrs. Figg's house in thoughtful silence, one lost in his memories and the other calculating his next move. With a final goodbye to Mrs. Figg, they were both gone with a cry of "Number Twelve Grimmauld Place!"